Existence
by dragonbaby
Summary: Hermione indulges in a venting excercise that leads to mutual revelations for herself and Harry alike.


Dear Harry, __

Dear Harry,

Where to start? And why does it matter? For once I don't need to push myself to perfection, and yet here I am forcing out words as though the world depended on it.

I don't know why this is so hard. I've written hundreds of letters in my life. Letters to you. To Ron. To both of you at once. Ron... does he really exist in this little sphere I've trapped myself in? Could he ever have any part in anything so consuming, yet so completely confidential? It's after three a.m. and it's easy to convince myself that I'm the only person left in the world. Perhaps Ron doesn't exist anymore. Perhaps you don't. It would simplify things wonderfully if the world came to destruction right outside my window while I obliviously tortured myself. 

Maybe I've gone crazy.

I have. I wouldn't be writing this if I hadn't. I've gone crazy, Harry, completely crazy, and it's all your fault. Yours. Not mine. Not mine in the slightest, because if it was I'm sure I'd be able to control it, tame it. I can't control this. Outwardly, I'm Hermione, picture of control, inwardly I'm raving and ranting and tottering on the edge of complete loss of sanity.

_Why does it matter? I'll never send this letter. More than anything in the world I want to, I want you to see it, but instead you'll get some stupid chatty note I've already written. It's sitting right here on my desk in front of me, and I hope it will somehow help you to survive spending the entire summer with the Dursleys. I actually nagged you about the Potions essay in it, and I hate myself for it. I want to destroy it. I want to pick up this horrible little piece of my own creation and inflict pain on it. And I can't, because it's inanimate. Paper doesn't feel. And I will end up destroying this letter, the one I'm writing right now, and I know I will be the one to feel pain for it._

This is stupid. A stupid venting exercise- why can't I control my thoughts? I don't know how long I've felt this way, but all of a sudden, this morning, after getting that letter from you- I can't explain it. It's like something exploded, just because of that letter that said absolutely nothing special, and I realized that this is it, Harry. In a week we'll be starting our seventh year, and Voldemort would do anything in his power to rip you apart like I want to rip apart that cursed letter that I've already written. You were attacked last year, Harry, and you survived but Dumbledore looked afraid. Dumbledore doesn't get alarmed, because if Dumbledore gets alarmed it means that something drastic is going to happen. 

So I woke up this morning. Showered. Dressed. Ate breakfast. Read a book. Couldn't concentrate because of the heat. I was wandering listlessly around the backyard when Hedwig arrived, and I read your letter and ever since then I've been existing from breath to breath, barely keeping composure. All day it's been breathe, Harry_, breathe, _Harry_, breathe... _

I really haven't made much of a point, have I? I've said very little with far too many words. 

I LOVE YOU, HARRY POTTER.

I said it. I'm shaking, I can barely control my pen but I said it. The world still functions, whether or not I'm the only one left in it.

I need to go to sleep. If I don't I'm going to drop from exhaustion.

Good night, Harry.

Love,

Hermione

She creased the letter and threw it on the desk, next to the hated one she planned to send. Without bothering to undress, she flopped down on her bed and was asleep within minutes.

She woke up late the next morning. Both of her parents had left for work, and she systematically went through her normal morning routine. By the time she'd returned to her room she had braced herself for what she knew she'd do all along.

She picked up the folded letter and ripped it into evenly sized scraps. Once she was done, a dead calm filled her body.

It was only after she'd sent the other one that she burst into tears.

***

The Hogwarts express wasn't yet crowded. Hermione sat alone, face buried in a thick textbook. She couldn't concentrate. She briefly wondered how she'd react when she saw _him_, then decided she was perfectly capable of behaving naturally.

Ron entered. She smiled at him in greeting. It occurred to her that things would have been much easier if it had been Ron she'd fallen in love with. None of those sleepless nights wondering if he'd even be there to lose sleep over the next day. No more debating about whether to give some hint or remain silent. 

"Where's Harry?" he asked.

"Not here yet, evidently. His uncle had to come to London anyway so he's dropping him off."

"I'm surprised he'd do that."

Ron shrugged. "I think he decided that it's better to have Harry not there than to keep Harry from having anything to do with magic."

"Better to have Harry complete his wizard training and be able to do something in our world than to be stuck with him."

"Exactly."

They were silent for a few minutes, each lost in their own train of thought. 

"Ron?"

"Hmm?"

"What if..." she couldn't say it. He knew what she meant anyway.

"Don't think about it."

"I _can't_ not think about it!"

Ron looked at her meditatively. "You really care about him, don't you?"

"Well it's not as though there's a lack of people who do. Everything is riding on what happens this year, Ron!"

Ron didn't answer.

"I'm going crazy," Hermione moaned. "All because of him..."

Ron was about to speak but the compartment door slid open and Harry entered. Hermione froze.

"Hello," he said calmly.

"Harry! Hi, how have you been?"

Harry grinned at Ron. "About as good as I could be, with the Dursleys."

He hadn't yet acknowledged Hermione. She wondered if he'd even noticed her. She looked down at her book until she became aware of him observing her. She glanced upward and her eyes locked themselves on his.

"I need to talk to you," he said.

She nodded nervously and stood. He did likewise, and gently grabbed her arm. She was surprised at the suddenness of the action, as though he thought she'd run away.

The thought had its appeal.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Any prefects here yet?" he asked.

"Not many." The front two compartments of the train were reserved for prefects. Despite their status, and being made Head Boy and Head Girl this year, they'd always opted to sit with Ron.

The first Prefect compartment contained a pair of Ravenclaw girls, eagerly discussing their classes, but the next was empty. 

He sat down and she nervously did the same. "Hermione..." he began, then shook his head. "I got this letter last week," he said, and pulled it out of his pocket. He handed it to her.

A glance was enough to tell her of the horrible mistake she'd made. Oh God, how could she possibly have done anything so incredibly stupid? Why did this have to happen to her? 

She looked at him, tried to read his expression. She couldn't. Neither of them spoke until he broke the silence by asking, "Did you mean what you said?"

_No, no! I didn't, I didn't! Tell him you didn't! Lie!_ She shook her head with infinite slowness, then broke down and whispered, "Yes. Every word."

He hadn't yet let go of her arm. Now he grabbed the opposite one and said heavily, "Everything?"

"Yes." She was shaking uncontrollably now, wanting more than anything to run, but those eyes of his were having a hypnotizing effect on her.

"Oh Hermione..." he seemed unable to reply. For an instant, neither of them so much as breathed. Time had stopped, and whether it was wonderful of horrible or both at once she had no idea.

And then he was slowly pulling her forward and she could hear the sound of his heart beating, detect the scent of the soap he'd used. Taste his lips...

He was kissing her. It took a moment to convince herself of that, then all reasoning became irrelevant and she was responding, moving out of her self-contained sphere into this new world, populated with lips and tongues and teeth and a desperate insatiable passion that blocked out all need for rational thought. 

The need for air finally became so desperate that they had to break apart, though it was the last thing in the world either of them wanted. 

"Harry-" Hermione choked.

"Shhh."

"Harry-"

"Not a _word_. Do you understand?"

She really didn't know what she was going to say, so she nodded. He positioned his arms so that he was holding her close to him, mouth next to her ear and whispered, "You really meant everything?"

"Yes." 

He exhaled slowly. "I love you, Hermione."

"Harry!" Her shaking was subsiding. "I love you too."

"Do you know what we've gotten ourselves into?"

"Yes."

"Why now, of all times?"

"I don't know."

"Neither do I." 

He rested his chin on top of her head and said, "This really is the worst possible time for this to happen, you know."

"Yes."

"Hermione- I could _die_."

"I know. So could I."

He sounded frightened. She didn't blame him in the slightest; she felt the same. It was endearing and at the same time scared her to death, and she allowed her presence to relax him, to provide comfort.

"Should we go back to Ron?"

"Mmmm." Harry ran a hand through her hair. "Does Ron even exist anymore?"

"I don't know."

"I've heard that sentence from you in the last five minutes more than all the rest of the time I've known you." 

"Maybe," she said, luxuriating in the fact that she could feel his breath, hot on her neck, "no one else exists anymore. Doesn't it seem plausible that everything else out there-" she gestured vaguely at the compartment door, "is just gone?"

"It would have its benefits," he murmured in response. Further conversation became impossible, as she'd tilted her head toward his and the only sound that could be heard was that of a frantic gasping for breath every few minutes. 

Outside, the world continued to function.

Although if it hadn't, they really wouldn't have noticed.

Disclaimer: Everything is J.K. Rowling's. This story is mine.


End file.
